Dramatic Foreshadowing
by Gothicruby
Summary: A semi-chronological drabble series just doocumenting Dark Ace's simplistic little life amongst the original Storm Hawks. Foreshadowing; it's there, it's natural, it's blindingly, almost painfully obvious; this is his story now.
1. Faux silk for young sashes

**"Because they're young; we can give Faux silk for their sashes."**

"Ace!"

"No!"

"Ace! Get back here," If laws permittied; bright red hair could've just bristled "Right **Now**!" the captain marched on; swearing under his breath as the heel of his boot came into contact with something crisp, foreign and truth be told; bloody sharp on his skin.

It was always the kids. That's right; kids.

Not the _trainees_, not the _young ones, _not even the _work experience brats_--it was always the **kids**. The Storm Hawk captain, or Rook as a fair few knew him, had found that, in his rather elongated experience; kids were worse than monkeys; they spat, shouted, snarled and for reasons just completely _unfathonable_ to man: always picked the worst, in terms of sheer brilliance, places to hide in when they found worlds crashing down upon their soft little heads.

Well...this kid did anyway.

He could hear him; past the tangled haze of trees and dank wood-rot, he could hear his dark haired charge scurrying out past the borders of vine and twig--out into a plane of who knows what. The elder man had to skulk carefully into the intricate mess of forestation just to avoid whacking his head against that tediously placed trunk up there. Rook stood strong, almost dignified admidst the natural wreckage, just scanning...

_Rustle. Rustle. Snap. Rustle. Rustle. Snap. _

Forest green orbs blinked. Slowly. Calmly. He trecked forwards; boots thudding a gentle rhythm into the dwarfed jungle.

_Rustle._

"Ace," a sigh as he gently eased a couple of branches away from his person "C'mon now; how's about you quit playing around and come back here?" it wasn't a suggestion.

_Snap. _

"I'm not mad kiddo, you know me," as optimistic a man as he was; Rook found it insanely difficult to keep an open stature while pushing back two stubborn switches just itching to snap back and take him out. Grunting as one caught him in the arm on release; both him and those irrately victorious trees could identify that all sense of dignity, along with a fair portion of patience, was lost to the dirt that claimed his left cheek.

_Rustle. _

"Ace..." a snarl after spluttering out what he could only guess would be a trampled blend of bark, leaves and earth "I mean it now." The sharp eyes of a hawk narrowed dangerously in correspondence to the constant disturbances just hovering all around him, "Stop it."

_Rustle._

"Just digging yourself further into a pit here, kid." As he composed himself, the leader just saw it ever so convenient to violently swipe at a loose branch--sending it and its' offending ecosystem spiralling down to the ground, "I'm not in the mood for it." Another careful, though notably hardened foot-falls forwards "Just come out and we can talk, alright?"

_Rustle, Rustle, Rustle. _

Rook's pace against the ground began to contemplate it's own direction as the SkyKnight struggled to supress the yelp that punctuated the ever forboding _fwack_ of the switch.

The rustle was emphasized by a fatal snap.

"Right." a defiant lock of fiery red waved rapidly across a gaze of pure steel as the muscular man sprung back up onto his feet. As the rubber soles slammed themselves against the ground; dust began to unsettle, gathering at his heels as if to block all distinction between his boots and the terra beneath him. "Get out here!" he stood; tall and stoic amongst his own echoing roar "That's an **order** Ace!"

All movement seemed to cease at this presence of a new, foreign point of domination; the snapping of twigs seemed an all too distant memory as the only rustling now heard of was that of the wind just naturally scraping away the corpses of leaves and their memory.

All too quiet...all too still.

The man hated it. The boy wasn't coming; and at this point, the twenty-three year old could care less about if the boy was frightened.

To any observer; the sight of a broadened jaw clinching was enough to rouse any scrap of warning from the recesses of even the most subordinate of minds! Note the term _observer._

"Alright, no, no," his arm slapped his thigh; his arm was almost longingly aggressive "No, I agree with you: Let's forget rank, I mean it's trivial right?" The red-head cleared his throat as his eyes closed; blinking a few times to refresh themselves. "Ace: This is your Legal Guardian talking!" he put an authoritive foot forwards "Now I'm gonna count to ten: before I reach it I suggest that you quit sulking, dust yourself off and get over here!"

Not a sound, not a movement.

"One,"

Rook's head turned in compliance with the sudden cry, accompanied by that racket of rustle-bustle that echoed about 5 feet away from him, "Ace?"

He was quick, but careful this time; he remembered to duck under the branches before attempting to skim past the bristles of bark.

A quick scan of the area spied the wayward boy in question sprawled out beneath the bank of a slight ditch in the land; amongst the dirt and rubble that was currently making an effort to completely smother the teenager, the only indication that it was him, other than the pretty much patented snarling; was the old hand-me-down sky-fu sash that'd unknotted from his waist and left a memorable trail tumbling down from the edge of the bank down to just beneath the boy's heel.

The Sky-Knight sighed; partially out of tiredness, but definately out of relief "There's my baby brother," as he snagged the sash up from the ground; alerting Ace to his presence, the elder one couldn't help but trace his sight up, across and around the child--damn sheer habit for sparking empathy "In trouble again I see,"

Sitting up with a wince; the boy felt himself squirming awkwardly atop the nagging rocks of the landscape "Wasn't my fault," stubbornly; he pawed and scratched in an attempt to wipe dried blood away from his snub little nose "He started it,"

"Mmmhm," the eldest sibling murmured; sliding down casually to sit by him as he began non-chalantly wind up the faux silk sash

"I was just defending myself," a wince as he pulled his legs un a little closer; obviously pressure on his ankle was not what he needed at the moment. "Not like I did it on purpose," he dusted the flakes of blood off his knuckles in adgitation; didn't matter-wasn't his.

"I can tell; man the way you left him," a condescending roll of the eyes accentuated by a sigh "Yeah he'll be up and out on the streets pickin' another fight pretty damn soon."

"Shut up Rook!"

"Ace, he's the bloody pilot!" he'd snapped; but only in the context sheer flabbergastion "What could he have possibly said to get you that riled?"

Crimson eyes narrowed; practically glaring a murderous pit into base of Rook's mind--a patient silence as forest green orbs observed him--pupils circling softly in response to the gaining noon light; calm, silent. "Well?"

As muscles tightened, the youngest of two contrasting siblings seemed to attempt to lurch forward; only to settle for slamming his face into his arms; supporting it all with his thighs.

Not a whimper, not a sob, not a tear; just a snarl which, if one where to split ends: could be considered a pout. Reluctant against the present, nagging stare; the boy sided against his little moodswing and emmitted the shadow of a disgruntled mumble.

"Come again?"

"Calls me Kidder." he had to bark in annoyance as his head slipped out of the nestled confines of his forearms.

"Kidder...?"

"Kidder. Everytime I talk; just laughs and calls me Kidder." another unsightly snarl forced its' way out of the back of the teenager's throat "Like I'm lying or something!" raven hair batted its way out of his eyes as he continued to glare down at his tensing fits; sputtering amongst growls and spits of raw, animalistic fury "Kidder!"

"Kidda." fingers clicked rhythmically; echoing like nails on a chalk-board into Ace's ears,

Abruptly; his dark haired head whipped around furiously before uttering a low, cautious; "What?"

"Kidda, Ace; he's calling you Kidd**a**."

Uncomprehendingly; the youngest's eyes could only stare deftly in response to his brother's supposed elaboration, glare taking stiff domination over his person "You know; like 'Kiddo'? Kidda.

Ace's eyebrow could only twitch contemplatively for several seconds as the lines of his still childish mouth pursed stubbornly against his lips "What's the difference?" Rook couldn't supress a quirk in the corner of his own mouth at this familiar sulky tone,

"Interpretation, apparantly," in almost ritualistic habit; the slender neck of the cycnical child snapped his head heavilly back into his knees--leaving him in a loose stature--an almost stripped state of appearance "He's just being friendly to you,"

"Well it made him sound stupid."

"Ah C'mere Ace," Rook chuckled; snaking an affectionate arm around his nimble frame,

"g'way."

"And leave you to get into any more trouble?" slight snort as a vigerously rubbing, oddly supportive hand attempted to jostle a little more reaction out of him--a grin, a laugh, anything "Like I'm that stupid,"

"Debatable."

"Clever," the elder mock-twitched; raising the fourteen year old's dusty, grimy face out of his lap to get an honest, good look at him. He was a slender boy, this trainee was: with a narrowed out, placid face that sometimes reminded Rook of their grandfather. A good boy at heart really, that much the SkyKnight could vouch; just...rough...needed a little sanding around his edges. Awkwardly; the teen shifted his sights back out towards the haze of trees and vinyard as his _legal guardian_ made an attempt to scrub atleast a fraction of the dirt that smothered his purple-hued swelling cheek "What's the matter?"

He swallowed; refusing to remove his eyeline from one inparticularly crooked willow tree "I...attacked a crewman," Rook could sense the concentration in his voice; the almost mechanical regurgitation of that damned handbook he'd had to, by occupational requirement, slam Ace down with when he first stumbled onto the Condor. Suffice to say it'd taken a massive amount of energy, prompting and, most notable, time to get him to break his gaze away from any form of minescule (Or "Disobediant" as his engineer had put it,) distraction to get him read it--the entire event ended up like a twisted scene from a movie; where a parent ends up barking a lecture-like story at his defiant teenaged son.

"Yeah, you did,"

"So..." another squirm as the boy attempted to brush away the still lingering pebbles out from under his backside "So're you sending me away?"

Slowly; the Knight's facial features began to soften and loosen against the restrictions of that lopsided grin he held so dear. An expression of grim seriousness slowly engulfed his broadened features "Depends." he paused; slowly studying his charge "Can you walk?" the seriousness of his tone prompted an experimental shift followed by a consequental yelp of confirmation; the man had to quickly spring up in order to catch the boy before he slammed himself back against the ground "No?"

"No,"

"Then tough luck for you Ace," he couldn't supress the warm affection of a chuckle that'd mounted within his muscular chest "Looks like you're stuck with us." For emphasis, he supposed, Rook almost instantly slugged Ace's right arm across the back of his neck; holding it there for means of firm support as he lifted his skinny frame up slightly by his chest. He could feel Ace deflating slightly in a sigh, rolling an annoyed frown his guardian's way,

"You suck sometimes big brother," another wince as he felt his own ankle collide quite accidentally with the Sky-Knight's,

"So you say," he hoisted him up further in response; allowing him to limp easier alongside him "But you know it's for your own good."

"Yeah," another childish mumble; lightened however in spite of the prior situation "Whatever,"

"Just mind your head," slowly, but firmly; he pressed the boy under the branches by his oh-so soft little head; sneaking in a quick ruffle to his hair before following him under into the large, and by now semi-forgotten haze of forest "It was three rights then left, right?"

_tbc. _


	2. To protect you

**"To protect them; we have to reserve them." **

The blanket practically choked him.

Any other morning. Any other morning he would've stripped his bed-spread off about a minute before the alarm clock went off. Any other morning he would've bounced up on his heels, grabbing his shirt as he proceeded to dive into a quick shower. Any other morning; he would've been the one to wake up the kid in the next room.

But no. Here Rook was; pale, pallid...staring silently through a glaze of puffed-out, pink-over-green eyes into a striking set of sharp, alert, crimson ones.

He laid there, restrained within his blankets--letting out a strangled cough from the back of his throat as he attempted to sit up; only to heave back down heavilly onto his bunk.

Silence.

The red-head rolled over onto his left side, towards the wall. The heat was getting to him; be it the fever or the heat, he couldn't distinguish, either way it was bothering him; severely.

He could feel him there still, just...hovering...

Another cough adgitated his frame; sending him wheezing and gasping into his blankets before again slamming down onto the mattress with a disgruntled swallow; basically just generally coming apart at the seems.

Not a movement, not a sound...was he even blinking, the man wondered?

Reluctantly; he rolled over from his back to his right hand side--staring somberly into a set of stoically observant orbs.

"What's up kiddo?"

"How come you called in sick?"

There was nothing, Rook found, like the first groan of the morning to set you off for a fun filled day of _"Can we go yet? Can we go yet?" _

"Do I look like I'm in any position to teach you to ride a skimmer?" he lethargically spewled; breaking the eye contact with his brother in order to rest his heavy lids. His brow couldn't help but furrow, however, as Ace knelt down to lean his elbows against the side of his bed,

"I have to learn sometime you know," his head tilted against his forearm; jet black hair hanging in mid-point potential over his recently sparking eyes.

"And you will," a murmur as the weakened one stretched out slightly; hair and face smothered by the sinfully comforting confines of a simple pillow "When I'm not dying."

"You're not dying," A pale eye cracked open in half-hearted retalliaton; staring at the younger one in stale humour,

"And where've you just come from, the med bay?" Ace had to give a toothy smirk of superior demeanor as he briskly picked his head up and leaned back on his heels; he know towered slightly above his leader's eyeline in a simple state of pure and simple pride,

"You're not dying." His chest puffed out slightly from under his now crossed "Because I had that same cold a week ago; and I got on with it." he could've, probably would have if he hadn't have been interrupted, continued into a semi-euphoric rant of his past-endevours: how he **tirelessly** worked and trained despite exhaustion, and how he **struggled **to keep his burning eyes open past the blaze of the fever.

But no. Why spoil an effective point through needless babble?

"Yes, thankyou by the way for breathing that on me," a grunt of indignation was uttered from their captain "Just what I always wanted," he poised himself into an elegent position of sprawled, sloppy contentedness beneath this quilt "A co-pilot to poison me."

"Whiner," the boy shot bluntly; leaning up and reaching a hand over the leader in order to clamber clumsilly over him and to the other side of the bed,

"Like you can talk," Rook coughed out; wheezing further when he felt Ace's knee collide with the centre his stomach, "Says the child who fights with the specialist over _cartoons_."

The dark boy took little notice as he positioned himself in a hunched-in sitting position beside the leader; his feet pressing up tightly against his back. "You're a whiner, big brother," he smirked; Rook merely shrugged his way further into the bed; dislodging Ace's feet from his shoulder blade and sending them slinging over his arm. He wasn't going to be knocked out of his roost by some kid who's voice hadn't even finished breaking yet.

"I'm not the one bugging a sick person to be allowed outside to play on a skimmer." the younger one felt one of his eyebrows twitch and quirk slightly as his lips tentanitively pursed in thought. Rook had to relish in the moment of unspecified silence; giving a sigh as he felt himself falling further into the almost unrealistic abyss of physical satisfaction that only moment of such pure stillness could provide. He barely even noticed when his younger sibling leaned forwards on supple hips to paw gently at his shoulder,

"Can I?"

"What?" grunting; he was determined to keep his conciousness buried under a thin blanketed layer of warmth and obliviousness,

"Go out?"

Rook's eyes were immediately wrenched from heavy bliss to face the chill of the room's open air,

"On a skimmer?" He glanced back, voice taking a slow, careful tone. He had to swallow when he felt Ace stare down at his own hands for a brief millisecond of sustained silence,

"Yeah."

"Absoloutely not." Immediately; the deepest, most dissapproving frown was shot back--cannon-balling any of Ace's ambitions for the day right out of his psyche's waters.

"Aw C'mon!"

"No!" the captain barked out in a throaty cough; turning over and winding himself tighter within the blankets "Besides," he swallowed slightly with a residual sputter "You wouldn't get very far anyway; I haven't even shown you how to start the thing up."

"But I've seen you do it a million times," he snaked further forwards, almost to contortionist level--causing Rook to groan before shifting his shoulder back and up in order to gain leeway to clamp lightly down on one of his baby brother's ankles--enduring the scent of worn rubber for the sake of keeping his proverbial toes in line.

"Watching and doing are 2 different things Ace," he rolled over; giving an expression that could only be inspire by the run-down, weather-worn feeling that was currently cannabalising his own throat and chest--finding himself taking brief solice in circling his finger around Ace's shoe-laces "Besides, I wouldn't wanna see you spiralling down into the wastelands, now, would I?"

Bristling; Ace was about to bite back his retort when he suddenly found himself muted over the sudden high-pitched wailing that saw cause to invade the inner sanctom of the captain's room--bursting past the partially open door and bouncing off the Condor's hollow walls; sending one teenager wincing while the adult stared off distantly for ten seconds; trying to place his sense of awareness as to the cause of the noise.

"Oh no..." the elder one sat up almost instantly when he heard such a sound stagger over itself in, what sounded like, a fit of choked coughing "Not Aerrow too,"

"Why'd ya let a baby stay on board anyway?" Ace found himself unintentionally barking; earning himself a silent scolding as per a glance from the leader.

"Because he's like you; born on the day you came aboard." The elder man briefly chided--hoisting himself up and out of the protective hold of his bed and staggerring wearilly down the halls. Like an errattic moth to a burning flame; Ace found himself jumping up to follow his now shirtless leader down the rhythmically swaying corridors of their homely airship.

"So?"

"So," a hand swept Rook's prominent lock of hair out of his eyes as he curiously spied the sight of a squalling month-old baby "In that sense; he's precious to me." Simple as.

Crimson irises narrowed partially in their sockets; he felt his arms fold again; this time just under his chest, where his stomach was. As he observed, almost intensely the sight of his elder brother fussing, fawning and generally prioritising this tot...Something about his stomach just felt oddly chilled.

Large, tanned hands clasped the infant close to a shirtless chest--easing an open palm across the circular Storm Hawk's logo that was sewn straight into the back of the child's pyjamas "Easy, easy...I've got ya now," a croon right in his tiny ear to softly shift the little one into a gradual state of awareness. Coughing began to subside as the baby began to shift tiny, chubby limbs around the warm, fleshy texture of Rook's chest; a sniffle and murmur before his waterlogged eyes began to slowly slide open--taking in the familiar sight of his father cooing down to him.

The closeness...the ritualistic, almost natural bonding of the father with the **mascot**...It sickened Ace; rattled him down to the very core.

"There's my little Sky Knight, eh?" The leader had to turn his head sharply in order to avoid coughing all over his son, before shaking his head abruptly in order to resume what was left of a loving smile "Ah, brave boy,"

"Him?" the teenager snorted out "A Sky Knight? Don't make me laugh."

"Who's joking?" green eyes lidded over partially as Rook allowed his downy-haired newborn to rest his fevered forehead against his collar bone

"Sky Knights aren't supposed to be constantly fussing, whining and pawing over their _daddies_," the older boy drawled out as he skulked forwards--prodding the baby lightly in the ribs; ironically jostling a profound giggle from the tot,

"You know Ace; if I didn't know any better--I'd say you were jealous," and just like that; Ace pulled a face. It was an odd face, fitting his mood really--a confused tug downwards on one of his eyebrows alongside that of his jaw; it was at these moments Rook couldn't help but take note that this little brother's base jaw iconically overpassed that of his top one, just ever so slightly.

"Jealous? Of what?" a light shrug which jostled Aerrow slightly over Rook's shoulder as he began to pace the room; bouncing the infant ever so gently against himself

"Maybe just the fact that I got out of bed for Aerrow and not you?"

"Oh don't flatter yourself; you're nothing special, Rook." the red-eyed boy huffed; giving him a cautious side-glance, littering it with the beginnings of a narrowed glare "I'm just saying is all; I don't think Atmos'll ever be ready for a Sky-Knight who screams every time the skimmer spirals out of control." He found himself stalking, ironically quite elevatedly over to the door "Not like me,"

"Oh?" tilting his head in a partially grin of humour "Not like you eh?"

"Not like me," the boy sneered "If you _ever _start training me...that kid's gonna have some compettition,"

"Oohh, better start runnin' now then, eh Aerrow?" the man couldn't help but give a playful, babyish coo of a laugh to the infant, "'cos Uncle Ace is gonna gethca aint he?" that almost manic look of plastered amusement stretching itself across Rook's face; Aerrow may have been squealing in delight--but Ace found himself giving a muted groan of annoyance,

"Ha, Ha big brother," he winced as he heard the man give a deeper, more profound cough--again, struggling to keep it out of range of his son's face. Black hair was shaken slightly out of the way of his now quite relaxed eyes "You ok?"

"Agh, Ace do me a favour will ya?" Ace practically yelled out in sheer surprise as his nephew came into contact with his personal space "Be a sport, _O' Sky Knight_: Just watch Aerrow for a bit--goin' back to bed," Rook couldn't help but give a breathless sigh as he found himself practically dragging himself out of the room; it was practically a blind effort--feet staggering all over the place, and he had to watch so as to not send himself crashing into the walls.

Both baby and teenager gave each other an intense, silent stare...a contemplative silence.

"So..." Ace cleared his throat slightly; head tilting slightly as he watched the infant give a, well he supposed a cute, yawn and settle his chin atop his shoulder--still glancing up at his 'caring' Uncle "You...like your room?"

_tbc. _


	3. War

**"War: more often than not, may require us to take a fresh perspective." **

He watched him; just toddling there on the little play mat, batting at the brightly coloured ships and shapes hovering almost dreamilly around his head; connected by loosely elasticated chords. Blissful, contented...happy.

Aerrow was happy.

And it bothered Ace that he could be.

Here he was: Living in the centre of a battle ground--aboard a flying Talon's target; a place of danger, fear and almost constant injury, yet, the most important thing buzzing around his simplistic little mind right now was which pretty-coloured ball to make the tiny toy skimmer bounce off of.

It was almost offensive.

Slowly; the fifteen year old snaked himself off of the couch and found himself crouching amongst repulsively soft pastel-colours and torterously illuminated plastic _things_--within the babyish squalor that was, essentially; Aerrow's domain.

And the tot appeared to take no heed at the apparrant invasion. He wasn't aware of the fact that Ace had littered his little area by setting down his drink's can, nor did he bother to take note of the fact that his uncle was studying, with little common interest, one of his favourite toys.  
No. Ignorance was bliss.

"Why are we still warring?"

Taken slightly aback; the Sky Knight glanced up from behind his coffee cup "Hm?"

"You know, us," he droned; flipping the toy over to examine the base of it "The Talons, Cyclonia," he leaned back openly on his right hand, glancing over into the partially tired green eyes of his commander "What's up with that?"

Wry lips curled into an obligated smile "What're you talking about Acey?" his coffee was placed politely atop the table as the red-head ran a conforming hand through his rather unruly hair "The talons are just, basically; bad people. And we have to defend the skies from them."

"But I thought you said Sky-Knights had to protect everyone?" despite the natural deepening his voice had taken over the course of a year--there was still that prominent element of, really quite young openness to it that had first and probably always would define Ace as the 'kid' of the squad,

"Well we are, ofcourse we are," Rook's neck appeared to raise atop his shoulders as he took a light step closer to him "We're defending those who need it _from_ the talons"

"But...s'pose they don't know they're bad?" by this time Aerrow had given up on crashing balls into Skimmers and was busy entertaining himself by chewing on the wing of his little fighter-plane carrier; gurgling all the while about nothing in particular, one could suppose.

"What dya mean? Ofcourse they're bad," the adult felt himself unintentionally snort "Anyone who goes into Cyclonia and comes out perfectly fine is obviously bad,"

"Why?" his head turned further over towards the elder one; left arm long since smothering itself and the toy within his lap "I mean, they have a terra too, like the Sky-Knights do, well..." he rolled his eyes at the obvious rouge nature of the Condor itself, shaking his head all the same to clear the question "What makes us so different from them?"

"Easy," the rather deep-ended take-out cup was lifted from the table "Cyclonians don't have Sky Knights, they have rulers; dictators." The red-head took a deep, indulgent gulp as he allowed a thoughtful frown to grace his features "One person. One government. Hell of a lot of anarchy on our hands."

"But what's wrong with just one person?" The eldest in the room sighed; giving the young boy an empathetic stare as he shifted where he sat "I mean, wouldn't it be more organized? A little more structured? I mean Rook, you saw what happened when--"

"Ace," the boy was snapped out of his curious wanderings almost as quick as he'd delved into them; but he felt himself giving a frown of sombre confirmation when he saw those boots; those items that he'd first identified as a source of authority steadilly advance towards him "What's with all the questions, eh?"

Crimson irises found themselves sparkle under the glare of mid-noon sunlight; slowly rolling down and away to spy his nephew's toy that'd long since fallen from his grasp and into the void of his crossed legs "I just...I think it's kinda..." his side teeth clicked lightly in thought as he began to close his lips back mouth over in half-hearted dejection. He shook his head; eyes dimming like lanterns at under the suffocating shroud of the night.

"Kinda...?" Rook pressed on gently, kneeling down to crouch beside his trainee co-pilot; his head tilting in gentle confusion.

Truth be told; the man had found it difficult as of late to clamp a hand over such questionings; practically every day the young one noticed something or saw fit to point out little tidbits of awe or amazement. He'd found it...refreshing to be honest; curious: As much as he found his baby son learning and growing about the safe confines that housed him, he'd found that Ace had ran himself around in circles just pondering how the moon moved the terras back and forth. Such impossible questions he seemed to think that the squad would just automatically hold all forms of answers to; if he was supressing something...actually biting his tongue so to speak... Rook could only assume that it must have taken one hell of alot of brain power to unsurface this extent of his imagination.

"Kinda...Dumb."

"Dumb?"

"I mean, it's just...nevermind." Out of the corner of his eye; could see him fondling the polished, plastic coating of, upon further inspection, could be seen as one of Aerrow's carrier ships; one of the old, forgotten ones that the baby didn't appear to have much time to pay attention to--the worn one with the scar running up and down the varnishings.

"Lemme ask ya something," the eldest's breath heaved slightly as he took his charge gently under his arms and coaxed him upwards; spinning him around gently before firmly clamping his hands around Ace's side; pinning his wrists lightly to his sides "You planning to steal my skimmer any time soon?"

He blinked down in surprise at the leader's question; brow furrowing defensively with a tense...he could feel veins bulking out beneath his arms as his grip tightened dangerously over Aerrow's little ship--his eyes once again sparking anew "No,"

"You planning to ride out to terrorize any nearbye villages?" Rook gently pressed; staring him right in the eye "To kidnap the children, rape the women, slaughter the men like livestock?"

"No!" the teenager wanted to squirm; to break free and back away from this man: to scream out all manners of accusations and protests. But he bit it down, bit it all back down; storing them in the cavities behind his throat, under tongue.

Rook kept a firm grip over his brother's wrists; being careful to shelter the nimble texture of bony frailty ,"And are you planning to go to Cyclonia any time soon?"

"**No!**" He felt his gaze narrow down dangerously as his jaw clinched itself together at the joints. He straightened further as his irises spiralled to focus in on the sight of the man before him.

"So," Rook nodded; fiery hair basking against the soft orange afterglow of the early evening rays "You still think it's _dumb_ by any chance?"

A raven haired head lowered as he slowly slacked his grip on the tiny toy in his palms; his lips pursed sullenly before tearing his gaze away from the passive green irises before him--daring not to peak any further into their experience. "Acey?" his brother continued to softly chide; walking him just a little closer to him "You still know what you wanna do?"

"You still gonna teach me the lightning claw tomorrow?" his head reared quite suddenly; eyes reflecting a refreshed, oddly cleansed sense of being--face smoothed in honest curiosity.

Another well-meaning roll of the eyes; courteousy of the now straightening leader,

"Sure, we'll try working up to that," vaguely; Ace felt himself trying, and failing for the moment, to duck a well-meaning tousle of his hair "That alright with you?"

"Yeah 'Kay," he shrugged casually as he began to carefully toss the little toy back and forth from palm to palm--allowing a soft curl of the corner of his lips to grace his momentarilly smoothed features; much to the light-hearted bemusement of the exiting adult.

His face narrowed once more, however, when he felt a familiar tugging at the base of his ankle; punctuating by an ever-irritating chorus of whining. Glancing down; he could see Aerrow reaching quite desperately now for the little figure that the older boy held within his palms "You want it?" he mumbled rather coarsely; shrugging it away as he let it fall to the floor with a heavy **thud**, before prying himself forcefully away from the soft, overly-cushioned area.

Pastel paint scuffing against the metal floors of the ship; Aerrow could only let out a startled cry of denial when he saw the upper-torso of the ship's little rider snap in half; bouncing away from it's former mount of glory and into the dusty crevices that lurked just beneath the Condor's homely couch.

_tbc._


	4. Naturality

**"Naturality comes at a price; Not at a skill."**

When they danced, or played or sauntered aimlessly along; it wasn't uncommon to merely glance at the rather intricate steps they took.

It wasn't uncommon at all.

As they stepped toe against toe; hopping aimlessly...gracefully...gently across the living area, ears bobbing softly as their fur was only slightly ruffled across--wasn't exactly anything new.

No.

Ofcourse it wasn't.

Two blizzardians; draped loosely in summer atire; sleeveless shirts, cargo shorts, regime peaked caps ever so slightly askew atop heat-blushed hair.

Nothing uncommon at all.

Yet he still watched them; staring at them. Unusually red crystal balls fogging over in unfamiliarity at their oh so intricate little display of play. The only disturbance in the air was the lullabiac thudding of weighted pads against soft steel.

Even after an entire year; his head still tilted as he gazed deeply at their almost ritualistic display of bonding; heel matching heel--to touching toe, and the commander's son being gently passed from chest to breast; giggling in soft amusement at the ride.

They were twins. Fraternal twins.

And it was blaintently obvious at first glance.

Ace should've been busy; should've been doing his maths 'Homework.' Oh he hated it: wrong answers galore--as if _anyone_ could ever spot the distinction between two degrees off Yar and a metre to Starboard. And as if his coordination could ever improve itself over studying a couple of graphs; damn things made his eyes practically bleed just glimpsing at them!

Hence that he _should_ have been doing it.

But he could not, not for the life of him; get his head around any of it.

Just a tangled mess...scribbles and blinks; stares all around.

Just had to watch; as they danced gently across the room, one of them mouthing the lyrics to an oddly familiar...distant...soft tune; the other bouncing the red-headed baby against their hips.

It was alien...

It was familiar...

It was just...natural. Boy and Girl, skipping softly along their ever shifting living area; baby gently pressed and re-pressed against chests, hips, shoulders and arms.

Handling fragile cargo with energy laced care.

It was only common knowledge that naturally the marksmen would be blessed with such accuracy; such timing.

He should've been concentrating; they'd told him a million times, almost too many to count--just white noise at this point; fading with him into the background.

He _should_ have been brushing up his skills, he _should_ have been applying it generally.

The black-haired boy absentmindedly shoved his tainted page away; grunting at the fact that his red-inked calculations clashed terribly with the freedomic doodles of his pride and self.

He didn't like it when he was interrupted like that.

But this; this...oh _this_ was a blank page, a canvas...an opportunity.

He was in control now; smirking--he loved to relish the almost squirm-worthy potential. As the pin-sharp nib of his pencil hoverred...just hoverred in the air...he could taste the freshly intoxicating victory that his tool; his sword, would reclaim.

"Acey!"

The fifteen year old spluttered heavilly as his pertruding shoulder blade was clapped, _heavilly_, across--sending his 'sword' spiralling down into a charccoal like mess atop the gaping, blank wasteland.

Sharply; he turned--blood practically circling in shock, horror, surprise. Ace found himself practically nose-diving back into reality upon finding the offender's, the boy's, cracked and crooked choppers practically slicing, oh so carelessly through his gums. A second to blink...and contemplate really...it must've taken a fine amount of tuning in one's own...derranged...mind to show those babies off without grimacing at every second word.

"Ya done?"

"Uhm..." lips pursed; casually, very casually as he snaked the paper away from either twin's line of sight "Uh-huh!"

And they _whooped_ joviously; naturally joviously--upon their youngest squaddie's daily achievement.

Obviously he _always_ finished, always got the last laugh; _"Ace was a good boy, eh!" _

Not like they'd ever bothered to watch him that close.

"Dance!" both baby, Aerrow, and girl squealed. He couldn't tell which; each was as bad as the other at times. But still; Ace laughed, shaking his head as he tried to smuggle his nimble wrists out of the muscular grasp.

But who was their little squaddie to argue?

Who was he but to bounce, awkwardly, gracelessly--just apparantly along with them as the natural duo circled uncle and nephew around and through in careful little loops and flicks and staggers galore.

The boy could've snuffed; ofcourse it wasn't a dance. Anybody who was anybody around here could tell it wasn't a dance.

It was just...

It was...

Oh...

Just...

"Watch out kiddo, eh!"

But again; who was their little squaddie...actually who was _anyone_ to know? To register, specifically, presently what any of them were shouting out about?

He counted; it took exactly 4 painful, ankle straining stumbles and a sharp _whang_ against the table to snap him back out of their little routine circle. X + Y = One Hell of a painful cry--who in their right mind let scalding hot coffee on the edge of a table?

"I'm ok!"

The sopping boy was practically choking against his own throat's need.

"I'm al-alright! M'alright!"

Aerrow was the first to break; screaming out in terror at the horrible loud noises. As far as he was concerned, it was all _distruption, distruption, distruption_. Ace merely dripped and sloshed himself all the way into a rather...standard pose...for someone solely _wet_.

"Just..." he swallowed; stiffenning--bloody eyes glassing firmly, refusing to fog over their images just yet "Just...gotta..." he wanted to bark out at the pair of them; their baby blue orbs squinting and shifting from his dripping sleeves to their rather snowed-brained memories.

Ace took in a long...deep...intense drag of steamed air; exhaling it gently through his gritted fangs. His eyes were dying, just pleading with him to let them lose it, "Got to change."

He left a steaming trail of familiar...identifiable liquid behind him. His heels clamped down on the stray, questioning droplets. Firm and firmer; one brisk step after another. Just trying to block out the heat of a blush beginning to rise up in his cheeks.

But Ace was still only fifteen years old, a baby amongst his elders; even if he'd just haphazardly flunked his homework off for the day, and who knows; maybe gotten his pennance in one twin's stray _"Cup o' joe." _

Could you really, honestly blame him if his ever-reddening eyes started draining his stress away?

_tbc. _


End file.
